Caecilia looked nervous. When she spoke, it was in so quiet a voice I had to lean right forward to hear her. “We all rose as usual, which was not long after dawn.” I could have guessed that. When your home is full of trouble, why waste good arguing time? “The Flamen makes offerings to the gods before breakfast.”
“You eat together as a family? Who was present then?”
“All of us. The Flamen, me and Gaia, Laelia and Ariminius…” She paused, uncertainly.
“Ariminius is the Flamen Pomonalis, and Laelia is his wife? Your husband’s sister? Anyone else there?” I asked, looking down at my tablet. I had thought I sensed something. Caecilia was so shortsighted, she could probably not see my expression, but tone of voice carries. Besides, the maids were watching, and if I looked too keen on a particular question, their anxiety might communicate itself to her.
“Nobody.” I was sure she had hesitated.
“After breakfast you went your separate ways?”
“Laelia was in her room, I think. I had my household tasks.” So the daughter-in-law was their drudge while the daughter took her ease? “Ariminius went out.” Lucky man.
“What about Gaia? Does she go to school?”
“Oh no.” Silly me.
“She has a tutor?”
“No. I have taught her the alphabet myself; she can read and write. Everything children in this household need to know, they learn at home.”
The priestly caste may be top-notch on peculiar ritual; they are not famous for being erudite.
“So, please tell me about Gaia’s day.”
“She sat quietly with the maids to begin with, helping them with their weaving at the loom.” I should have known that as well as believing in self-education, these were home-weaving cranks. Well, a Flamen Dialis has to insist that his Flaminica work her fingers sore preparing his ceremonial robes. I amused myself wondering about Helena’s reaction, if I had come home with my new honor and suggested that a Procurator of Poultry ought to swank about in wife-sewn livery. “After a while,” continued Caecilia, now speaking with more confidence, “she was allowed to go into a safe inner garden and play.”
“When did you hear she was missing?”
“After lunch. That is an informal meal here, but of course I expected to see her. When Gaia did not appear, I accepted a story her nurse told, that Gaia had taken her food to eat by herself. She does that sometimes, sitting on a bench in the sun, or making herself a little picnic still involved in play…” She suddenly looked at me sharply. “I expect you think us a strange, strict family-but Gaia is allowed to be a child, Falco! She plays. She owns plenty of toys.” Not many friends to share them with, I guessed.
“I shall have to search her room shortly.”
“You will find that she lived in a dear little nursery, quite spoiled.”
“So she had no obvious reason to want to run away from home?” I demanded, without warning. Caecilia clammed up. “No horrid new family crises?” I noticed a few restless movements among the waiting maids. They kept their eyes cast down. They had been well drilled, probably while I was kept hanging about before this interview.
“Gaia has always been a happy child. A sweet baby and a happy child.” The mother had retreated into a talismanic chant. Still, at least she was now showing some natural misery. “What has happened to her? Will I ever see her again?”
“I am trying to find the answer. Please trust me.”
She was still agitated. I had no hopes of getting anywhere while she was surrounded by her female bodyguards. The maids were as much protecting me from the truth as protecting the lady from me. I pretended I had finished, then asked if Caecilia would now show me the child’s room, saying I would like her to do this herself in case, under my guidance, she could spot anything different from normal that would act as a clue. She agreed to come without the maids. The slave who was supposed to escort me scuttled along behind us, but he was a loon and hardly ever kept up. He was already carrying the house plan for me, and I added my toga to burden him more.
Caecilia walked me along several corridors. Cooling down abruptly in just my tunic, I hooked my thumbs in my belt. I gave her time to relax too, then returned to the questions she had avoided and asked gently, “Something was wrong, wasn’t it?”
She took a deep breath. “There had been bad feeling, for various reasons, and Gaia has always been sensitive. Like any child, she assumed that all problems were her fault.”
“Were they?”
She jumped. “How could they be?”
I said callously, “I have no idea-since I don’t know what these problems were!” She was determined not to tell me. Orders from the Flamen, no doubt. We paced along in silence for a while, then I pressed it: “Was the trouble to do with your husband’s aunt?”
Caecilia glanced at me sideways. “You know about that?” She looked amazed. Too amazed. At the same moment we both realized we were somehow at cross-purposes. I made a mental note of the subject.
